


Find Myself in Tomorrow

by fallouise



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Friendship, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallouise/pseuds/fallouise
Summary: “Humid air, an overbearing sun, and a gymnastics competition looming just around the corner—the world wasn’t perfect, but it was reality. Her reality.”They were so preoccupied with fighting for what they believed in that she wasn’t prepared for what came after. Sumire Yoshizawa watches the end of the world and adjusts to life in the aftermath.Sumitaba Week 2020.
Relationships: Sakura Futaba/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Find Myself in Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for implications of malnutrition.

Some days, Sumire Yoshizawa remembered the end of the world.

A golden sheen, an emanating blue ribcage—Adam Kadmon. That was what Dr. Maruki had called it. Her body ran hot and cold at the name, as if gravity itself had centered around the colossal Persona, as if the mere sight of it was enough to draw reverence and respect from any individual. The doctor had summoned a god. Or had he become a god himself?

Jammed into a Morgana helicopter with the rest of the Phantom Thieves, Sumire bore witness to the death of that god, the kind of deity borne from a man’s intense desire to save the world. The perfect, shining light of Adam Kadmon dissolved into the night air, until she could hardly believe that the giant was there to begin with.

Gravity shifted, then. It felt like the entire world, having held its breath for this singular moment, released a sigh of relief.

“Joker!”  
“He jumped?!”

There was commotion. Something about Dr. Maruki? Squashed so close together in a wobbling helicopter, it was hard for Sumire to gather her bearings. Short snippets of info were yelled around as everyone tried to understand the situation. Yusuke reported from the ledge: Ren had let go of the grappling hook attached to the helicopter, landing on the same platform as Dr. Maruki. Akechi cursed loudly. Ryuji and Ann were ready to jump off alongside Ren, while Haru forced them to stay in place.

Sumire should’ve acted. She should have felt adrenaline, or an eagerness to jump into danger like her seniors.

Instead, she found something else: a strange sense of calm.

Makoto grappled Futaba by the shoulders. “Can you get any readings on them?”

“I’m trying, it’s just that—”

Not paying Makoto any mind as she gripped the younger girl’s shoulders with increasing urgency, Futaba muttered a string of thoughts to herself. She settled on the floor of the helicopter and leaned against Sumire. Her mask’s goggles were alight with information. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her thigh. Not having any reason for it, Sumire reached out and interlaced their hands. Futaba squeezed their handhold without question.

“It’s not that I’m losing connection. I know I’ve tracked everyone’s signals much farther than those two. Then why…?”

Morgana was quick on the uptake. “I’ll circle around, so hold on tight!”

The swerves that Morgana pulled could rival rollercoasters. Despite that, everyone swallowed down the nauseating feeling. Ensuring that nothing happened to either Ren or Dr. Maruki was the priority.

Haru’s light voice cut through the tension. “Do you think Joker will be okay?”

“It’s Joker,” Sumire was surprised to hear the clarity in her voice. She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. “I believe in him.”

“Man, hurry the ‘eff up, Mona!” Ryuji stamped his foot on the ground.

“You’re not the one learning to fly for the first time, idiot.”

Clutching her handhold with Futaba close, Sumire turned her attention to the front windows of the helicopter.

Between Morgana’s hectic maneuvering and her scattered mindset, she watched as the spiraling glass staircase of Dr. Maruki’s palace shattered. At this distance, the large glass shards seemed to fall in slow motion. It came apart like performance art. The path to the topmost center of paradise was no more. Like the rest of the doctor’s reality, it disappeared as if it was never there in the first place.

“Sumire,” Futaba whispered.

“It’s funny,” she said aloud, though not in reply to Futaba directly. “I thought I’d feel something more intense once we finished things. Yet I’m not feeling much of anything.”

“Sumire, look at me,” Futaba repeated.

“Hm?”

She turned at the girl’s words, and found brown eyes staring at her in disbelief.

Was it what she said? Was it odd that she felt neither celebratory nor regretful? It wouldn’t surprise Sumire if the Phantom Thieves were used to the feeling.

Wait.

Her brown eyes.

“Futaba-senpai, your mask…” Her words trailed off as she looked around the helicopter.

Sumire found Ann’s downcast blue eyes, a solemn, quiet look on Yusuke, and even Ryuji seemed at a loss for words now. She looked at Futaba once more. Raising her free hand, she made a motion to grab her mask, only to feel it dissipate into light blue particles. Within herself, she could no longer feel Ella.

“It seems that the Phantom Thieves have reached their point of no return,” Akechi observed. Even now, he maintained a sense of distance from the rest of the group.

Everyone looked at one another, or at nothing at all.

He was right. Whether or not they were prepared for it, this was the end of the Phantom Thieves as they knew it. Sumire could only assume that everyone else had arrived at the same conclusions. Their Personas were gone. The magical elements, the heightened emotions and awareness, those were gone along with them. If any of them bothered to take out their phones, they were sure that the MetaNav had disappeared as well.

If their Personas were disappearing alongside Dr. Maruki’s ideal reality, then that must mean that the group would have already lost their abilities in the original timeline. Did it mean that, in some way, they collectively yearned to continue as Phantom Thieves?

Perhaps it didn’t matter now.

Just as Akechi had said, just as they unanimously agreed upon, the reality they wanted was the one they decided for themselves. Unsure futures, past regrets—all of it.

They would face it, with or without supernatural powers.

Morgana’s voice was calmer as he addressed the group.

“I’m drawing near. Get ready for our last escape, Phantom Thieves!”

The palace—no, an entire world broke down around them. The perfect reality, where Sumire no longer existed and Kasumi stood in her place, where there was no adversity and an immaculate future lay in wait, bled into a blinding light.

Sumire didn’t turn away, even until the last moment.

Unyielding eyes watched the end of the world.

…

It felt like a lifetime had passed by the time Sumire Yoshizawa opened her eyes.

In reality (or some form of it), it was the tail end of summer. Around four in the afternoon on a Sunday just like any other. Sumire stood outside of the Sakura residence in Yongen-Jaya, finding solace under the shade of a tree. Humid air, an overbearing sun, and a gymnastics competition looming just around the corner—the world wasn’t perfect, but it was reality. Her reality.

Her phone was out of the bag as soon as it vibrated.

**From: Futaba Sakura**  
ミ(ノ_ _)ノ sumire-sama

**From: Futaba Sakura**  
have mercy on my poor soul

**From: Futaba Sakura**  
how about!!! good ol sakura family curry on the house!

**From: Futaba Sakura**  
with seconds! THIRDS

Sumire could only laugh. She was never one to refuse curry, especially not curry from Leblanc, but a deal was a deal. Typing a quick response, she pushed past the front gate and knocked briefly on the entrance.

**From: Sumire Yoshizawa**  
We already had our rest day for the week!

**From: Sumire Yoshizawa**  
to grind in an MMO if I might add.

**From: Futaba Sakura**  
i just want you to catch up to the latest update… o(╥﹏╥)o

The front door slid open to a pouting Futaba, phone in hand and still in her pajamas. She probably hadn’t been outside all day. This was a truce, if Sumire had ever seen one.

The other girl stepped to the side and she entered with a bow of her head.

“Leg day’s one hell of a mini boss,” Futaba could only acquiesce.

“Think of it more like a training montage,” Sumire offered. Thinking on it more, she corrected herself, “although I guess there isn’t much of a montage… Sorry.”

“ _Hey!_ No apologizing if there’s nothing to say sorry for.”

Futaba walked backwards as she led them back to her bedroom. Her pout had thinned into pressed lips. There was no malice behind her words. It may have sounded reprimanding, but Sumire knew more than anyone that it was more like a reminder.

She nodded, feeling a smile grow.

“Right. Then we’re working ourselves to the bone again today.”

“Aw jeez, you’re ruthless.”

The bedroom was about the same since the last few times Sumire had been over. A couple of clothes were strewn onto a shelf to the side. A pile of complex books on cognitive psience on the floor intimidated Sumire. Yet the area around Futaba’s computer setup was immaculate. It wasn’t the tidiest room, but it felt like Futaba, and that was what mattered.

Falling onto the bed, Sumire rested with her hands behind her back. She closed her eyes with a content smile.

“Go get changed, okay?”

“In a jiffy.”

Listening to Futaba mutter to herself as she opened a shelf, Sumire found her mind straying. Around this time last year, she still saw herself as Kasumi, in a slump and unable to climb out of the rift. It was Ren who’d been kind to her. When she needed a crutch, or an excuse to keep looking forward, he extended his hand. Maybe he was too kind in that regard.

Ren returning to his hometown meant her uncertain future as Sumire could not rely solely on him. It meant confronting the fact that she’d spent nearly an entire year convinced she was her dead sister.

Who was Sumire, after months of abandoning herself?

Going to therapy helped to have an outside perspective to guide her. In the end, though, it was up to her to decide who or what made her identity. Not her dad, any of her teachers, or the competition judges. What had she decided for herself, then?

The sound of shuffling clothes caught her attention. Stealing a look under lidded eyes, Sumire watched as Futaba yanked her loose shirt over her head. Underneath, it was easy to see the girl’s ribcage. She was nothing but skin and bones, and what muscles she did have were still regaining form after months of atrophy. Her body looked scarily fragile, so completely different than the stress Sumire’s own body had undergone.

Pulling on a workout shirt, Futaba looked over her shoulder.

She was blushing.

“You’re staring at me again,” Futaba commented, an unsure tone middling between teasing or embarrassment.

An apology bubbled to the surface, before Sumire stifled the urge. In turn, her face grew warmer while she tried to think of a proper response.

“I, err. Well,” she stammered. “you were on my mind.”

“Oh—yeah, haha? I mean, I guess I don’t really mind if it’s you,” came the reply. For a moment, Futaba turned away once more to take a deep breath, while Sumire hid her blush with the back of her hand. A self-conscious cough interrupted the atmosphere. “Aaaanyway! Where’s that hair tie…”

“I have a spare.” Getting onto her feet, she walked towards Futaba. The other girl held out a hand for it, until she saw Sumire shaking her head. “Please, allow me.”

Only after she started combing her hands through orange hair did Sumire notice the tips of Futaba’s ears were red.

The two of them never did define what their relationship was. They were friends of a mutual friend, thrown together as Phantom Thieves when there were few other options. Then the world changed, just as they were beginning to adjust to one another. Not in defeating a false god, not in rejecting a reality, but in graduations and transfers. Even Ann would be leaving to study abroad in a few weeks.

It was hard to label their relationship when it was a given that they’d stick together.

Gently tugging the ponytail with these thoughts on her mind, Sumire ended up wrapping her arms around Futaba. She interlocked her two hands together and set them on the girl’s stomach.

Sumire was always surprised with how small Futaba felt under her touch. Shorter, yes, but small in the sense that Sumire felt like she took up more space than the other girl did. She nestled her chin on Futaba’s shoulder. Shaky hands came to rest atop of Sumire’s.

A quiet voice broke the silence.

“Are you _sure_ we can’t skip the gym today?”

“We never skip leg day, Futaba.”

“…Yeah, you’re right.”

…

Perhaps skipping leg day would’ve been the better option, after all.

Sumire watched Coach Hiraguchi with trepidation as the older woman examined Futaba’s form. She personally asked her coach to take some time today to gauge Futaba. In the back of her mind, Sumire was worried if their current regimen suited Futaba’s level or if she’d overlooked anything important. Though a trained physical therapist might have been better for the task, making do under Coach Hiraguchi’s instruction was easily the next best thing.

It didn’t help that it was Sumire’s own undertaking to help Futaba exercise more. She didn’t want to disappoint either person in her company.

They were doing stretches as Sumire sat down, straightened her legs before her, and reached for her toes. Holding the position, she peered in Futaba’s direction. “How’re you holding up?”

“Hrk…” The girl managed to give a sound of pain.

“Hm,” Coach Hiraguchi remarked.

“J… Just do what you can, okay, Futaba? Don’t hurt yourself,” Sumire released a nervous laugh. Twenty seconds passed, before moving onto the next stretch. It was crucial to warm up the hamstrings, the quadriceps, the calves. As they finished stretches and moved onto squats, Sumire glanced at her coach.

Coach Hiraguchi made no sign of intervening.

A finger poked into Sumire’s side.

She turned to see Futaba cupping her mouth as if to whisper. Leaning into her, a girl’s exhausted voice tickled her ear as she asked, “Is… is your coach grading us? Should I be worried?”

She never did explain it to Futaba, did she? That was already one thing she overlooked. Taking Futaba’s hand into her own and directing it to cup Futaba’s ear, she whispered back, “Oh, um. She’s supposed to be helping us, but she has been, erm, strangely quiet? She’s usually quick to point out mistakes.”

“Oh yeah, no pressure,” Futaba grimaced as she stood up from a squat.

That wasn’t how she wanted this session to go. Following along with Futaba’s squats, Sumire proposed in a low voice, “I can ask her to leave if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No! No way,” the girl drew in a big gulp of air, tensing herself as she lowered herself once again. “I mean, we’veeee—” she took an agonizingly long time to lift herself up. “we’ve faced worse than this! Literal monsters! _Dick_ monsters.”

“D-Don’t say that out loud!” Sumire gasped.

“Compared to Shadows, this,” Futaba paused as she started another squat. She gave Sumire an unsure grin. “this is beginner level.”

As fatigued as she was, she still was trying to cheer her up.

They hadn’t really done anything to overexert Sumire, but she still blamed exercising on why her face felt flushed. With a smile, she also resumed the exercise.

“Right.”

…

“Sakura-san? I’d like you to refill your and Sumire’s water bottles, please.”

Coach Hiraguchi’s underlying message was clear: she wanted to talk to Sumire. In private.

“Yes, ma’am! Coach, ma’am!!” Futaba ducked out of the conversation immediately.

Throughout the entire session, the older woman only occasionally corrected Futaba’s teetering form. For the most part, however, she seemed intent on observing them, rarely interfering. It was nerve-wracking under the piercing gaze of Coach Hiraguchi. This was the same coach that demanded perfection, and nothing less. The same coach that could tell when Sumire was having an off day through a single exchange.

Shrugging on her jacket, Coach Hiraguchi looked squarely at Sumire.

“You’re wondering why I haven’t said anything about Sakura-san.”

“At some point I assumed it was intentional,” Sumire lowered her head in shame. The most likely scenario was to teach her a lesson on wasting her instructor’s time.

“It’s because I saw nothing wrong with your regimen. It’s rigorous enough to build muscle, without risking injury,” a hand took Sumire by the shoulder and nudged her head upward once more. “I do remember why you called me here, though. You want her training to go well, so you approached someone in the field. It was a smart decision. Still, I don’t think my input is needed.”

“Coach…”

“I’m rather proud to know that my pupil is helping someone as well as you are. So,” Coach Hiraguchi took a step backward, and gave a firm nod towards Sumire. “have faith in yourself. You’re doing fine.”

Sumire wasn’t sure how to accept praise. She was a diligent student, and aimed to compete in gymnastics at the international level, but hearing praise on her character? Her brain short-circuited as she bowed her head in embarrassment.

It was just another thing on a long list that she needed to work on. She’d get it right eventually.

“I’ll do my best.”

“If you’re unsure of anything, don’t be afraid to reach out.”

Coach Hiraguchi’s eyes wandered toward one end of the gym, with Sumire’s attention following suit. There, they found Futaba stalling for time as she clutched the water bottles close to her chest. “In any case, it was a little surprising to see what kind of girl you took under your wing. She wasn’t what I was expecting, but she’s someone special if she got you to call in for a favor.”

“H-Huh? Well, it’s, well. Um.”

Her face was definitely, absolutely bright red right now. From the outside, it was true that they were an unlikely pair. Their interests didn’t immediately line up, and they were only now beginning to understand each other better. Despite that, she still held onto a hope that she wasn’t alone in thinking they shared something more.

The reaction invited a chuckle out of her coach. “You don’t have to justify yourself, Sumire.”

“Is that so?” Sumire covered her blush with a hand. She swiveled her face away from her coach. Oh, wow. She and Coach Hiraguchi were supposed to have something akin to a business relationship. That was the kind of social connection that didn’t talk about—well, _relationships_. “Then I choose not to answer.”

“Even if your reaction is enough of an answer?”

She turned towards her coach with an even deeper blush. The teasing had to be on purpose, wasn’t it? In a quiet voice, she begged, “Aren’t you going a little too far with this…?”

Coach Hiraguchi pulled Sumire into a half-hug, using her other arm to punch her lightly on the shoulder. The gesture reminded Sumire so much of the days when both she and Kasumi trained together, and yet so much had changed since then.

She was different. It felt like the entire world was.

In a tone that was far too familial for a mere business relationship, Coach Hiraguchi led them towards Futaba, asking, “How about I buy you two ice cream on the way back?”

…

Some days, Sumire Yoshizawa remembered Dr. Maruki’s offer.

She was so desperate to escape her pain. Led along by his ideology and rhetoric, she fell into a deep slumber. Flashes of a possible future were being constructed and enforced into reality. She would be Kasumi, determined to win at the international level and garnering the attention of the entire world. Everything came flawlessly for Kasumi. She had the natural aptitude, a natural way with her words and her body.

She would be happy.

Most of all, though, she wouldn’t be in pain.

Like glass fracturing under pressure, different elements scratched their way to the surface of her consciousness. It was Ren, first and foremost. He was in his Joker attire. His gloved hand reached outward like an invitation. Like a lifeline.

There was the rest of the Phantom Thieves, disjointed and colorful. They all had different motivations spurring them on as they pursued the same ideals, together.

In the end, she saw herself, mask thrown away and a Persona blossoming from within her.

Was this a dream, or a memory?

A hand rested atop of her head. And then two hands, ruffling her hair and loosening her ponytail. A nearby voice scolded her, “If you fall asleep now, you won’t finish your lunch, y’know. Unleeess… _speedrun!_ Sumire’s lunch challenge, any percent.”

Different sensations came to her as she opened her eyes. Futaba shuffled over to sit on Sumire’s lap, leaning her head back against her shoulder. She smelled like Leblanc, warm and familiar. The classroom was filled with chatter and chairs scraping along the floor, sounding distant compared to the girl within her arms. A few of their friends sat around them, mock-arguing whether Sumire’s lunch rivaled the Big Bang Burger challenge.

“Feed me, Futabaaa,” she whined, wrapping her arms around the girl’s abdomen. Futaba no longer felt small in her hands anymore. Rather, she fit just right.

One friend cooed. “Ugh. You two are so cute.”

“I need something like that in my life,” another bemoaned as she wiped an imaginary tear from her eye.

“This one’s mine! Find your own girlfriend,” Futaba stuck her tongue out. Their friends raised their hands in jest, before returning to their previous discussion of their MMO heist last night. Futaba cracked open the topmost of the stacked bento boxes, picking up a cherry tomato and popping it into Sumire’s mouth. “What’s got you zoning out, anyway?”

The easy answer would be that they had all stayed up far too late playing the MMO last night. It was partially true, what with Sumire determined to find a rare drop and Futaba grinding on a new character, while their friends were all too happy to enable late night shenanigans.

It was an honest answer, but it wasn’t the entire story.

Debating her words, Sumire whispered her answer.

“I’m just happy that I live in this reality.”

Futaba lifted her head at that. She turned to Sumire in a silent exchange, as different thoughts flashed in an instant. Dr. Maruki. His reality. New identities, a mother come back to life. A world where there was no pain.

And yet that other reality never predicted their relationship. In the brief glimpses that both had of a perfect, ideal life, the two of them were never connected. Maybe it meant that their relationship wasn’t perfect. Maybe it meant they’d struggle in the future, or it could be a sign that that reality had never accounted for people changing.

Whatever it meant, Sumire decided that nothing ideal was worth missing out on Futaba Sakura.

“I’m happy you’re here, too,” Futaba beamed.

Easing themselves back into the conversation, Sumire staked a claim on her present, on this reality. She was going to keep changing. Someday, her future might turn out completely different than the one Dr. Maruki had envisioned.

She looked forward to making it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Written to Persona 5 Royal’s OST, [Royal Days – Another Version –](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUuP1A23lfI) (and other miscellaneous late game P5R tracks).  
> Written for [Sumitaba Week](https://twitter.com/sumitabaweek) on Twitter.  
> You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fallouisewrites).
> 
> P5R was the first Persona game I've finished myself, with these two characters especially sticking out to me. The grounding emotion for this piece is "processing". P5R's new ending had a lot to unpack for me...
> 
> Thank you for reading, and stay safe out there!  
> 


End file.
